Trouble Is My Middle Name
by Domini Porter
Summary: Hermione gets a glamorous new job after the war. I have been reading a lot of Raymond Chandler. This story is ridiculous. Femmeslash.
1. Chapter 1

It was a dark and stormy night. I didn't know how it could manage to be dark with all that lightning ripping through the sky, but the air that steamed in through my open window was blacker than the hair on a mountain troll's ass. A rumble of thunder rattled the ice cubes that had just gotten comfortable in their bath of scotch. I fished through the drawer next to me for the half-empty pack of cigarettes I knew were hiding behind the parchment and dried quills. Success. "_Lumos_," I muttered, and lit the crumbling tobacco with the tip of my wand.

Smoke filtered through the air, which was thick and heavy with damp. It made toadstools pop up along the floorboards and caused oily patches of rot to bloom on the old copies of the _P__rophet _that littered the office. The place was a dump. But it was my dump. I had been shacking up in the decrepit old building for a few weeks, nothing serious, just a place to lay my head until the papers decided to run my piece on racketeering in the Ministry. Those bastards couldn't get away with prophecy-fixing forever. They'd either pay for it in credibility or in a hefty sack of Galleons left outside my door. But until then, I'd have to stay here.

My stomach growled in time with the thunder. I shook my head wearily and took a swallow of scotch. Best breakfast, lunch, and dinner a private dick could ask for. At the very least it ensured I would save money on clothes, since it kept me fitting in my old school robes. The scotch burned down my throat and settled warmly in my stomach. The fog behind my eyes lifted a little. Helped the headache, too.

I turned my attention back to the file in front of me. A job. Not a big job, but enough to pay the rent on my shithole flat for another week or two. I shuffled through the pages. Pretty standard cheat job. Amazing how many women ran around on their husbands these days. But with the recession hitting hard in the years after the war, maybe not that amazing. A girl could do worse than to shack up on the side with one of the countless profiteers who had made a little money playing the odds in the surprisingly lucrative battle between good and evil. I studied the top sheet of the dossier and blinked hard. _Malfoy_? _Pansy Malfoy running around on Draco? _Sure enough, it was. The ink didn't move so I knew it wasn't some bum enchantment. I wondered why I didn't remember seeing that greasy little ferret come through my office door. A glance at the empty glass next to me and I shook my head. Makes the headaches go away. The nightmares, too. Problem with it is that it also seemed to make everything else go away in the bargain. I scratched my temple with the tip of my wand, jerking it away just in time to prevent singeing off half my hair.

_Malfoy, Pansy. Suspected of adultery with B. Zabini, proprietor of the Zabini Grotto_.

Zabini, huh? That was even more surprising. With a name like Blaise . . . oh well. I wasn't paid enough to pass judgment.

I looked down at my clothes and sighed. I certainly wasn't paid enough to go traipsing around the Zabini Grotto. I tapped my wand on the tabletop, sending faint sparks shooting out of the end to lay smoldering in the ashtray I kept at hand for that very purpose. Well, for that and the cigarettes.

I stood up and poked around the wreckage of the flat looking for something to make myself look halfway decent. At least the kind of decent I needed to be if I was going to make an appearance at Zabini's. Unfortunately, that was the one kind of decency I didn't seem capable of producing. Screw 'em. They'd have to take me as I came.

I ducked out into the street, avoiding the watchful eye of the landlady who would most certainly start shrieking at me about rent and garbage and anything else that came into her head. Part harpy, I was dead certain. The streets were slick with a rain that had only just stopped. The lightning still came intermittently, lending ominous shadows to the tall stone buildings clustered around the narrow, winding street. A streetlamp guttered and went out.

"Hallo young squire," the toothless hag on the corner croaked. She'd been croaking at me for months, my long hair and still-girlish figure apparently making no difference one way or the other. "Fancy a tumble?"

"Not tonight, Matilda," I replied. "Maybe next week."

She cackled loudly and with a soft pop disappeared from her post. Amazing the number of impoverished witches and wizards who had made this neighborhood their home. But with the near-destruction of the Ministry and the resultant loss of thousands of jobs, maybe not that amazing.

I wove through back alleys and side streets, my long history of hiding making a habit of avoiding populated areas. Helped with the job, too. I had gotten very sneaky over the past few years. It's hard not to when you're one of the most-wanted people in the country. Even though the death sentence had long been lifted, I still felt uneasy in crowded streets.

A few twists and turns and I arrived at the side door of Zabini's place, a dark recess in the stone wall. A flickering neon light was all that announced it. I knew from experience that this particular appearance was deceiving; Zabini had somehow managed to profit insanely in the months following the war. I hadn't figured out how, but I had put it on a back burner in my head. Nothing serious, just something to wonder over on the colder nights when I couldn't work up enough magic to make a proper fire. I ducked in the door and was nearly thrown back out into the street by an arm thick as a Bludger and twice as heavy.

"No riff-raff. Get out," grunted a deep male voice. I rubbed my chest where the arm had made what felt like an inch-deep dent.

"All right there, Grawp," I muttered. "No need to be rude." I looked up at the troll watching the door. "Crabbe?" I cried. Well, it made sense. He was big enough and dumb enough. What else could he get after all this? Certainly not a job in the Ministry, and everywhere else he'd be too stupid to make it through an interview.

Crabbe stared at me. I could hear the tiny gears whirling in his apelike head. Finally a dull light flickered in his muddy eyes. "Granger?" he grunted.

"The very same," I replied. "I've got an appointment with Blaise."

"He didn't say anything about it to me," Crabbe said suspiciously.

"I don't recall a man like Blaise saying much of anything to much of anyone," I replied. "Unless you've got a thousand Galleons hiding under that suit."

"That's just my stomach, Granger," Crabbe said as though I was monumentally stupid.

"Well gosh, Crabbe," I said, turning on the sarcasm. "You could've fooled me. Let me in, all right? I don't plan on staying long."

"I better check with the boss." Crabbe looked doubtful.

I hopped from foot to foot. Great. My first job in a month and I was gonna lose it because of this stupid oaf. "Hey, well, if you leave, then I'm pretty sure that crone will find some way to get in and disturb your paying customers," I said, pointing at Matilda who had mercifully Apparated just down the block. Crabbe eyed her carefully, then looked at me. Doing the sartorial math.

"All right," he grumbled. "But don't make any trouble. I don't want to have to throw you out." I could see from the way he clenched his fists he'd like nothing better. But I'd be damned if I'd give him the satisfaction.

"I promise," I said as sweetly as I could. "So how's Goyle?" It might have been the flinch, or maybe the way he punched the wall, but I sensed I'd hit a nerve. I suddenly remembered Goyle's prone body lying on the floor of the Great Hall and immediately felt bad. "I'm sorry," I said sincerely. "I . . . forget a lot of stuff. From then."

"Yeah," Crabbe whispered. Would've whispered if he wasn't the size of an ogre. "Me too." He stepped aside and I crossed the threshold. Turned back.

"Really," I said again. "I'm sorry."

"Get in before I change my mind," he barked gruffly. I didn't need another invitation. I saluted sloppily and ducked into the club.

Zabini's Grotto was styled after Merlin-knows-what, but it was a paragon of bad taste and fast money. Torches flickered in their cast-iron braces. A badly-enchanted ceiling glittered with what I assumed were supposed to be stars but looked more like blobs of the blue fire I used to carry around in jars. A godawful Weird Sisters cover band was screeching from a small stage near the back. Dozens of witches and wizards milled around, sat at tables, ducked into corners. Not one of them looked up when I entered. Slytherins, all of them. All with that damned Slytherin sense of superiority. I must not smell enough like money and goblin treasure. I walked up to the bar and tapped a sullen waitress on the shoulder.

"What?" she snarled, clearly making a snap judgment her kind were so good at.

"Hey, I don't need the attitude. I wore my best robes," I said. She sneered at me. "It's the new thing," I said. "Hobo chic. All the Muggles are doing it." She rolled her eyes.

"What do you want?"

"I need to talk to the big man."

She raised her eyebrow. "I'm so sure," she said dryly.

"Look honey, don't get upset. I'm sure I can make time for you tomorrow. Come around my place, I'll show you things they never taught at Hogwarts. But right now I've got to talk to Zabini. Tell him it's Hermione Granger. He'll see me."

I didn't know exactly what I was doing. First of all, I wouldn't get caught dead with a Slytherin girl. And considering just how easy it was for me to get caught dead in my line of work, that was saying a lot. Second, it didn't seem remotely likely that Blaise Zabini would see me. But all I could do was hope.

The waitress sighed set down her empty tray, disturbing an enchanted bottle of some kind of liqueur. The glass shuddered and swirled, a tiny golden tornado whirling around inside it. I wondered what it was. And how it would taste on ice.

"Don't even think about it," the waitress said archly. "Fifteen Galleons a glass."

"In that case I'll just have one," I shot back. Not my best line, but I was in a hurry. Well, I wasn't in a hurry, but I didn't like the look I was getting from the greasy old wizard at the end of the bar. He looked vaguely familiar in a creeping sort of way that I didn't like at all.

The waitress sauntered into the back room. I perched on an empty stool and waited. The greasy wizard slid over a stool, sitting next to me. I tried not to look at him.

"Granger?" he hissed, his voice metallic like it hadn't been used in a long time. I blinked. Looked at him again.

No luck. Couldn't place him. Not that I minded. The fewer slimy Slytherin bastards occupying space in my head, the better.

"Vaisey," he said thinly. "Aloysius Vaisey."

The name was vaguely familiar. I still couldn't get a firm grasp on him. Not that I wanted to anyway. In any sense.

"Hogwarts," he said, obviously trying to jog my memory. "We were both at Hogwarts."

"That's nice," I said as noncommittally as I could. The years had not been kind to him. He looked about as old as dirt.

"I remember you," Vaisey continued. He was obviously drunk. His hand was creeping along the bar.

"I don't remember you, Vaisey," I said, "and you'd better be careful about molesting the enemy." The hand stopped. Where was the bloody waitress?

Finally she emerged from the back room and stood at the doorway, looking bored and impatient. I took this as my cue to head over. "Catch you later," I called to Vaisey who hadn't anticipated my departure and fell to the ground. He mumbled something thickly, his mouth smashed against the leg of a barstool.

As I made my way through the throng of people I glanced around. It was my job, after all. No sign of Pansy Malfoy. Just as I made it to the door of Zabini's office I thought I caught a glimpse of a very familiar face. But it couldn't be. No way. Not in a million years. I chalked it up to not having had a drink in almost an hour and followed the waitress into the inner sanctum.

"Hermione Granger," Zabini hissed silkily. The years had only made him sharper, more attractive if that's the sort of thing a person is interested in. I supposed Pansy Malfoy would be interested, from what I remembered of her she always seemed to think the sharper the cheekbone, the better the lay. Not that I would know. No matter what I tried my own cheeks had remained stubbornly rounded.

"Blaise," I said curtly.

"To what do I owe the honor?" He remained seated at his massive desk. It was intricately carved with images of Salazar Slytherin, long snakes winding up and down the heavy dark legs. It gave me the shakes just looking at it. Then again, that's probably what it was supposed to do. The walls were covered in what looked like silk, the color changing subtly every few moments. A large crystal ball stood on another heavily carved stand near the fireplace. I wondered where he hid his stash. Probably in the ball.

"Divination? Blaise, I had no idea." I had an idea, of course, but again I don't get paid to judge.

"What do you want, Granger?" His voice was hard.

"I'm just checking in on all my old friends," I said as steadily as I could. A drink wouldn't have been at all unwelcome at the moment. "Seeing how everyone's making out these days."

"Obviously some of us are doing better than others," he sneered. "And that's all you came for? Just a friendly chat?"

"Sure," I said. "Wondering if you keep in touch with any of the old gang. I see you've got Crabbe working the door."

"We'll have to see how long that lasts, if he can't figure out who to let in and who to keep out."

"Cut the guy a break," I said. I couldn't believe I was defending a Slytherin, even a dumb one. "He only let me in because I said some very insensitive things. That's what you people like to hear, isn't it?" I swallowed hard. I could see Zabini's fingers tensing against the leather blotter. "So Crabbe, that's nice. I was talking to someone about Pansy Parkinson—Malfoy now, I guess. Just wondering what she'd been up to."

"Really," Zabini said coolly. "And what prompted you to think of me in all this reminiscent goodwill?"

"Oh, nothing. Except I heard you keep in touch with her. Malfoy can't like that too much."

The sound of fingernails scraping on leather isn't a pleasant one. Neither is the sound of a wand thwacking against a hand-carved mahogany desk.

"Guess you don't see too much of each other, then," I said hastily. Jackpot.

"I see the years haven't stripped you of all your fabled intellect," Zabini growled.

"Not quite," I said. "Anyway, it's been great seeing you, Blaise, we'll really have to do it again soon." His glare was palpable. "Kidding," I said with a forced little laugh. These Slytherins and their lack of humor. Bad enough most of them hadn't gotten the hang of showering. "I'll just see myself out then."

The bored-looking waitress made a big show of stepping aside. I made a big show of slapping her ass on the way out and not risking looking behind me, though I swear I heard Zabini snicker.

I slipped out—literally, sliding past a group of especially slimy wizards blocking the entrance. As I headed for the door I glanced behind me one more time. For luck, I always said. What I really meant was to make sure nobody was pointing a wand in my direction. Slytherins weren't above hexing anybody while their back was turned, everybody knew that. Just before I was hustled out the door by a disgruntled-looking Crabbe I caught a glimpse of that face. That face that was burned into my brain.

No way.


	2. Chapter 2

I paced the flat incessantly for the next two hours. Equaling about three thousand up-and-down trips. It wasn't spacious. Cozy, maybe, if you were blind and had no sense of smell, taste, or touch. And if you were deaf.

So I had the dirt on Pansy Malfoy and Blaise Zabini. At least enough to get some kind of stipend. A nasty look and a drawn wand weren't enough to close the case, but at least Malfoy ought to cough up a few Knuts to keep things going. I wondered briefly why I hadn't gotten my up-front as usual, but chalked it up to scotch.

Scotch. Always a good idea. I poured myself another glass and stood by the window. The storm had passed and miracle of miracles, a breath of cool, fresh air was making itself welcome in the flat. If only my head were that clear. I tried to focus on the few stars I could make out through the smog and city lights, but I couldn't stop seeing that face. _Her_ face. What was she doing there? How could she?

I realized the ice cubes were clinking. There wasn't any more thunder. It must be me. I looked down and sure enough my hand was shaking to beat the band. I drained the glass but all it did was make the shaking worse. It made her face clearer. As if I needed any help with that. I set the glass down on the table maybe a little harder than was necessary if the sudden profusion of ice cubes littering the papers was any indication. I took a deep breath and swept my wand across the rapidly-dampening pages, siphoning the ice and water back into the tumbler.

It hadn't been long since I'd seen her but a day away from that face was like an eternity.

But what had she been doing at Zabini's, of all places? She'd never gone in for the rough trade. Sure the years had been hard, they'd been hard on all of us. But for her to end up somewhere like that, it wasn't right.

I crossed the four steps to the liquor cabinet and knelt down, poking around for a fresh bottle. Supplies were running low. I'd have to talk to Malfoy tomorrow. Hopefully he'd left his contact information in the dossier, otherwise I had no idea how to get ahold of him. I leaned in, reaching for a bottle I saw lurking near the back. My head was fully inside the cabinet, that's why I didn't see the door swing open.

"I always liked you from this angle."

It was her.

I jerked up, banging my head hard on the cabinet. "Merlin's beard!"

"Nice hello," Ginny said.

I stood up, rubbing the rapidly-swelling spot on the back of my head.

She stood in the doorway, the thin light from the hall spilling around her body. I remembered it well. The body, not the hallway. The hallway I couldn't care less about.

"Aren't you going to invite me in?" she asked. I had been waiting years to hear that. From her. But I didn't seem to be able to make my mouth move. I waved the scotch bottle I had unconsciously grabbed in a vague sort of semicircle. She smiled—I guessed, since it was still dark—and stepped into the room.

I've always been good at first impressions. It's essential for this business. But my first impressions have generally been of lowlifes, thugs, swindlers, and whores. As far as I could tell, Ginny wasn't any of those things. Though that could've just been the power of my conviction about her. At any rate, I couldn't get a clear view of her. It wasn't the thick air, though the air certainly seemed to have gotten thicker in the few seconds she stood in it. It wasn't the dimness, since so many working nights had accustomed my eyes to the dark. It wasn't the liquor, which generally made things clearer. It was the gauzy sort of curtain that had always wrapped around her, at least in my eyes. She wasn't the kind of girl a gauzy curtain generally wrapped around, though. It must've been love. It must _be_ love, or else I had a concussion.

"I see business is booming," she said. "Mind if I sit?" I shook my head, dazed. She stepped gracefully over a stack of sodden _Prophets_ and perched on the edge of my desk. The streetlamp had relighted itself and I managed to shake off a little of my haze to get a proper look at her. The stripes of watery yellowish light did nothing for her, but in my experience nothing needed to be done. Her face was still porcelain-smooth, a smattering of freckles across her thin nose, her bright eyes luminous in the half-light. She grinned, her lips parting. I remembered that for sure.

"Hi," I said finally. Not one of my better lines.

"Hi," she replied playfully.

I suddenly had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I couldn't tell if it was lust or danger or both. Probably both.

"So . . ." I was on a roll. I realized I was still holding the bottle and used the excuse of my glass to cross to the desk. The nearer I got to her the shakier my step became. She smelled delicious, like expensive perfume and cheap wine. Her lips were ruby red. Her hair was too. I managed to uncap the bottle without making a complete ass of myself and poured a generous measure into the tumbler. Ginny raised her eyebrow and took the glass before I could get my hands on it. She tossed half of it back in a single swallow. It was definitely love.

"I saw you tonight," she said. "At Zabini's. I knew it was you right away."

"Did you?" I said, trying to regain my footing. I glanced around for another glass before giving up and taking a long pull from the bottle. The scotch steadied me a little. "I thought I saw you but I didn't believe it."

"Have I changed that much?" she asked teasingly.

Had she changed? It had been nearly two years since I'd seen her, and she'd grown into herself admirably. She was still lean and muscular but there was a softness. The sensual kind. The dangerous kind.

"Your hair's different," I said. Another zinger.

"Is it?" She flipped it behind her gracefully. I was hit with a waft of her perfume and it nearly knocked me over. "I suppose. What were you doing at the club?"

"What were _you_ doing there?" I replied. "I know what _I _was doing there, and it involved getting in and getting out as quickly as possible. But you looked like you were there for the company."

"Now Hermione," she pouted slightly. "Don't say things like that. It's not like I was enjoying myself."

"So what were you doing there?" I felt myself getting angry. I was starting to remember everything. Starting to remember why I hadn't seen her in two years. Why I had gotten involved in this business in the first place. Why I was living in a roach-infested shithole, and most of the whys could be answered by the face of the girl in front of me.

"I was talking to someone," she said evasively.

"Talking to someone in a cocktail dress?" I said. "Nice cut, by the way." It was. It looked painted on.

"Thanks," Ginny said tensely. "I can leave if you want."

"No," I said quickly. Maybe too quickly. This could be very bad. Ginny Weasley was bad news. So I told myself. Firmly.

"It's why I came to see you," she said finally.

"Not just for the pleasure of my company?"

She sighed and finished her drink. She always could hold her liquor.

"I need some help."

My resolve crumbled. I looked at her again and I thought I could make out a faint worry line creasing her smooth forehead. Against my better judgment I saw myself reaching out and brushing away that line. Fortunately my hand was clamped firmly around the neck of the bottle.

"What kind of help?"

"It's about Harry," she said softly. My grip tightened. Of course. It was always about Harry.

"What about him?" I said, trying to control my voice. If there was anything I didn't need it was to get mixed up with Harry Potter again. Sure it had been glamorous for a while, but it had cost me a lot more than it had gotten me when you added up the bodies.

"He's missing."

"You sure he's not just hiding under his Invisibility Cloak?" I asked nastily. Ginny looked away. I felt bad. This was the second time I'd felt bad in one night, and I didn't like it.

"He's been gone for two weeks." She flipped a cigarette out of the pack on my desk. I didn't know she smoked. "I don't usually," she said. I checked myself. It's never good for a shamus to show surprise, but I'd never been able to hide anything from her. "Only when I'm under pressure." She fit the cigarette between her lips and looked at me half-expectantly. I fumbled for my wand and lit the end, making sure I didn't scatter sparks all over her little black dress.

"Under pressure?"

She took a deep drag and let the smoke drift out of her mouth. I know, it'll kill you, but something about the way she handled that exhale made me certain the sinking feeling in my stomach was definitely lust.

"I got a note," she said. She reached inside her dress and withdrew a sheet of parchment from between her breasts.

"Nice pocket," I managed to choke out.

"I don't have a purse that goes with this outfit," she said, a smile playing at her lips. She handed me the paper. Still warm. Merlin.

I unfolded the note and glanced at it. Just what I had been dreading. Ransom. Like he was the teenage daughter of a Ministry official. Of course it wouldn't be Harry Potter without some sort of price on his head.

"Well, there's some good news," I said after a minute. Ginny looked skeptical. "They don't say they'll kill him. That's good."

"Is it?" she said. Something in her tone struck me as odd. She had meant it as a question, but it rang slightly false.

"Yeah," I said, trying to keep the sudden suspicion out of my own voice. "All it says is ten thousand Galleons and the briefcase he keeps behind the portrait of Albus Dumbledore. What's in the briefcase, Ginny?"

She blinked and looked slightly away. My inner Sneakoscope began whirling. "I don't know," she said.

"Ginny," I said calmly, "I can't lie to you. You know that. But you also know," I fished my own cigarette out, "that you can't lie to me."

Her eyes filled with tears. Any trace of hardass I might have managed to cultivate vanished. I was always a sucker for a dame with tears in her eyes. Especially this one.

"I really don't know," she said quietly. "All I know is it's very valuable."

"So give it to whoever wants it, and get your husband back. It's not like you don't have the money, either."

"I can't," she said, the tears gathering in earnest. I was quickly getting in a bad way. I ought to tell her to get out, her and her gorgeous eyes and ruby lips and perfect body. I ought to tell her to go to hell for what she's done to me. But those gorgeous eyes and ruby lips and perfect body were much more powerful magic than I was able to defend myself from. "I can't, Hermione. Harry told me I wasn't ever to give it to anybody, that's the only thing he ever said about it."

"What could possibly be so important? More important than his life?"

"You said they wouldn't kill him!" she cried, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"I said they don't say they'll kill him. But what do I know?"

"Oh Hermione," Ginny moaned. "Please help me." She threw herself across the desk and landed in my arms. It wasn't the alcohol that made me stumble at that moment, I knew that for sure.

"Ginny," I mumbled, trying to get my bearings. It was damned difficult, what with an armful of trembling, warm, delicious-smelling _her_.

"Please," she whispered.

"I don't know what you want me to do about this," I said weakly.

"I want you to help me find him. To get him back." She shifted her position so she wasn't spread quite so awkwardly across the desk. I figured getting my wand out of her side was part of it. Her arms held tight around my neck. Her face pressed against my chest, her tears hot on my skin.

"What were you doing at Zabini's?" I asked. It was a low trick to take advantage of her emotional state, but I figured it'd be pretty damned difficult getting it out of her later.

"I was talking to some friends of Malfoy's," she sniffled. "They're the ones who delivered the note."

_Malfoy?_

"What were you talking about?" My brain was moving a thousand miles a second. It felt like being in school, working over runes.

"They told me Harry was still alive. That he's okay, for now."

"Well, that's good."

"Is it?" The same off note. I couldn't place it and it was making me crazy. Something about her conviction. It was the wrong kind. It wasn't the desperate clinging-at-straws kind when the love of your life is in mortal peril. Even if the love of your life is a stupid prat who has an undeniable knack for getting himself and everyone around him into trouble. She said it like it was its own death sentence.

"It's good," I said again. She clung to me even more tightly. I was getting dizzy.

"Oh Hermione," she whispered. Bad news. Definitely bad news. If I was going to do this, and of course I was, for her, I had a feeling I would have to brush up on my defensive spells.

Suddenly it hit me. Like a pile of books.

"Ginny, you don't even love him."

"How do you know?" she sniffled.

"Just a guess," I said, and it was, but I hoped it'd pan out, "but you still love me." And I kissed her.

I was in a lot of trouble.


	3. Chapter 3

I couldn't believe it. Of course, I don't believe much after years of lies and obfuscation, but this was one thing I _really_ couldn't believe. Namely the fact that Ginny Weasley, one-time love of my life, was laying next to me on the sagging couch of my dreams. And that she was naked under my robes.

I watched her chest rise and fall as she breathed evenly. I'm not a saint—it was quite a chest. And she was quite a girl. The intervening years had obviously taught her a few tricks, and I was pretty confident she hadn't learned any of them from her husband.

The thought of Harry made me shudder involuntarily. He had been my best friend. We had been through thick and thin—mostly thick. But once he had married Ginny it had all fallen apart. It's not like I hadn't seen it coming. Even in those days I had a knack for prognostication, not the kind peddled by Trelawney and her band of charlatans, but the kind developed over months of living in a tent with someone who tried very hard to keep his voice down in the middle of the night but more often than not failed. I shook my head to erase the memories of Harry groaning in his bunk.

Ginny's eyes blinked open and she smiled. "Hey there," she murmured and stretched in a way that was probably illegal.

"Hey," I said. Post-coital small talk had never been my strong suit.

She yawned and sat up, rubbing her eyes. I steeled myself for her reaction when the cold light of day illuminated my living conditions. "What a dump," she said.

"Yeah, but it's _my_ dump," I replied. "At least for now."

"What happened to you?" Ginny asked. I looked at her, trying to read her meaning. She wasn't being unkind, it was just a way she had.

"Things got hard," I said simply. "I made some enemies."

"Yeah, I know."

"Do you?"

She nodded and shook out her hair. Even the light that filtered into my flat was mangy, but somehow it made her more beautiful.

"I'm starved," she announced and stood up, my robes sliding off her body. I took a moment to drink it in. Not a lot of beauty around here. The girls I'd managed to finagle might look good through a pair of scotch-colored glasses, but when the hangover set in they were always as cheap as their price.

She strolled through the flat, picking up her things. I was struck by a wave of nostalgia, remembering all those early-morning scrambles for clothes and knapsacks before breakfast. I shook it off. Nostalgia was dangerous. And even though I loved her, had always loved her, too much water had passed under the bridge for me to be able to indulge in this little ritual worry-free. "So what's the plan?" she asked.

"Breakfast," I replied, pulling on my own shirt. "And then I've got a few things to do, as I'm sure you do."

"Kicking me out already?" she said, the hint of a pout making her lips even more luscious. That mouth would be the death of me.

"Not exactly. I just think it might look a little odd, you know?"

She shrugged. "I suppose. Though you certainly do know how to make a girl feel unwanted."

"Are you kidding me?" I cried. "I want you like the House Cup."

She grinned. "That's better. Get dressed. I'm buying."

We ducked out of the building, Ginny not even asking why we took the back stairs. That's my girl, all right. Never questions subterfuge.

I led her to a dirty little café around the block. The waitress grunted when I walked in and I sat down at my usual booth. "Eggs," I said. "And sausages. Cup of Joe's special blend." Code word for "plus whiskey." Ginny raised her eyebrow. That girl could see right through me.

"A little early, don't you think?"

"Hey, I don't question your entertainments. Don't question my breakfast."

She frowned. "I told you why I was at Zabini's."

I shook my head. "You told me _part_ of why you were at Zabini's. Meeting some cohorts of Malfoy's. But—and this is no comment on the dress—you looked awfully comfortable."

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. The waitress plopped a cup in front of me and I took a deep swallow. The booze helped immediately. "Get her one too," I said. The waitress grunted again and shuffled off behind the counter.

"I've been there a couple of times before, all right? Nothing serious."

"I didn't know you traveled in such exclusive circles." It wasn't the best way to start my day, but I figured my luck from last night had overstayed its welcome anyway. I didn't want to upset her, but the years had worn away my sensitivity. Sure I loved her, who wouldn't? But there was still a job attached, and if I was going to do it I had to create a little distance.

"I used to hang around with Pansy a little," she admitted finally.

"Oh really? Just a couple of girls out on the town?"

"She was my friend! She was my only friend for a while," Ginny said defensively. "You know what Harry was into. It's not like I had a lot of choice," she added, shooting daggers at me with her eyes.

"If you're implying it's _my_ fault--"

"Of course it's your fault!" she hissed. "You left me! You left me all by myself with nobody to talk to!"

I sighed and took another swallow of my coffee. "I'm sorry, all right? But once Harry started getting mixed up in all that dirty business I had to back out. I didn't want to be the one who brought him down. I know we had our differences, but there was too much history for it to be me. And you . . ." I had to stop. Couldn't get misty-eyed. It doesn't look good for a gumshoe to get all gooey. Not professional.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. Damn. Tears again.

"Yeah. I know." It might not have been true, but I had to change the subject. "So," I said a little louder than was necessary. "Tell me everything, from the beginning. Harry's been missing two weeks. When did he disappear? Where from? What about the note?"

Ginny swallowed hard, and looked inordinately grateful when the waitress brought her cup. "Well," she began. "He went out to meet with some of his business partners. And I don't know who they are, so don't ask. He doesn't tell me anything. All I know is it has something to do with the Ministry, and once he mentioned something about the Department of Mysteries."

"But that's been disbanded!" I said.

"Mysterious, isn't it," Ginny replied dryly. "Anyway, when he left all he took was his wand."

"That's good, isn't it? He could defend himself." Harry might not have been the shiniest Sickle in the bag but he always seemed pretty capable of fighting back. It was one of the few things I was happy to say I'd picked up from him.

"I guess," Ginny said doubtfully. "He didn't come home that night but I . . . wasn't very worried," she finished quietly.

"Habit of staying out late?"

She nodded.

"Women on the side?"

She squirmed uncomfortably.

"Don't tell me."

"I won't."

I was flabbergasted. No amount of private-eye training could keep the surprise off my face. "I lied. Tell me."

"It wasn't serious," she said. "At least that's what he told me."

"And you believed him?" I cried.

"It's not like my marriage was serious, Hermione," she admonished. "What did you think I was getting up to with Pansy?"

That one hit me like a ton of bricks. Let Harry gallivant around with all the fancy boys he chose, but hearing that Ginny, _my_ Ginny, had been two-timing him with a _Slytherin_, made the whiskey-infused coffee churn uncomfortably in my stomach. Unfortunately it was right at that moment the waitress decided to slap the plate with my greasy eggs and gelatinous sausage right in front of me. I thought I was going to be sick. On the other hand, she'd just solved my case. On the other other hand, no way could I bring that back to Malfoy.

The day was quickly clouding over.

"So," I said with difficulty, "what else?"

"I've upset you," Ginny said, sounding dismayed. Of course she had, and she knew it. It made the little Sneakoscope inside my head start whirling again. Time had driven away almost all of my sentimentality. I wouldn't put a doublecross past her. She _was_ a Weasley.

"So he didn't come home that night," I said firmly.

"No."

"And how long did it take before you decided to get worried?" I had to play it cold as ice. I was on shaky ground as it was.

"Until I got the note," Ginny said, a little abashed.

"And that was . . ."

"Five days later."

"Five days, huh."

"Yes," she snapped. I had forgotten that she could be a real firecracker when she wanted.

"All right. Harry disappears. Five days later you get a note demanding ten thousand Galleons and this mysterious briefcase. And you have no idea what's in the briefcase."

"No idea. He never said anything except I wasn't ever to give it to anyone."

"That's a little funny," I said. At last the booze was starting to help my reasoning along.

"Funny?"

"Not, 'make sure this stays safe' or 'don't touch it.' Just 'don't give it to anyone.' Like he knew someone would want it."

"If you take the trouble to have a safe installed in your house I'm guessing it's not much of a stretch to think someone would want it."

"Yeah, yeah," I said. "But still. How did you come to hear from Malfoy's goons?"

She took a drink of her coffee and grimaced a little. I shrugged. "They're the ones who brought the note, remember? Then they showed back up again last week. Said someone wanted to meet with me and that I wasn't to take any action on the demand."

"That's fucking ridiculous," I said. This whole thing was fucking ridiculous. I suddenly had a hell of a headache. "First they demand the ransom and then tell you they don't want it."

"You think it makes sense to me? I'm just trying to get through this with a clean nose."

Good girl. "So why Malfoy? Harry wasn't dealing with him . . . professionally, was he?"

"No, thank you, Harry had nothing to do with him. As far as I know. Anyway, Malfoy's damaged goods, nobody in the city will touch him. Not after all the war business came out."

It was true. In the grand tradition of hypocrisy the world over, the people who had been outspoken in their support of Voldemort had been shunned, if not imprisoned, while the ones behind the scenes, even the ones everyone knew about like Zabini, managed to come out of it smelling like a rose. Malfoy had been living on what little of his family's money remained, which wasn't much. No wonder Pansy was running around. But I couldn't think about that.

"Near as I can tell, Malfoy just wants the money. And the briefcase. Which makes me think it's got something in it, documents or something, that will help him get a little power back."

The girl was smart. Always had been. Maybe not book smart like I was, but what she knew of the streets could have filled the Hogwarts library five times over. The old thought of "if she'd only applied herself to her studies more" came rushing back to me. I smiled a little, then pushed it away.

"So what did his little henchmen tell you last night?"

"First of all, they weren't little," she said. "And they told me Harry was still alive, that he was safe, and as long as I played along he'd stay that way."

"What did they want you to do?"

"They want me to go to a party," she said.

"A party?" I was gonna need a lot more liquor to make it through this day.

"At Malfoy's."

"When?"

"Tomorrow night. I'm supposed to bring the money and the briefcase. I'm guessing the people I'm supposed to give it to will be there."

"Good guess."

"Look, Hermione, we're not all geniuses like you."

"Most days I doubt if I'm one." It was true. Sometimes I'd try to do Charms in my head and there were days I couldn't even figure out _Alohomora_. But it was a small price to pay to escape from the horrors of the past few years. At least that's what I told myself.

"Anyway," she said. "Do you think I should go?"

"Do you want Harry back?"

There was a long pause. "I dunno. He's an awful git."

Merlin, I loved her.

"Thing is," she said, "I'm afraid. I'm afraid of what they'll do to me if I don't follow through."

"Did they threaten you?" I made a mental note to practice my old DA skills. Sure she might be a dirty double-crosser, but damn it, if anybody tried to hurt her I'd have to do something about it. Just the kind of person I was. Too bad honor doesn't come with a paycheck.

"Not exactly. But I get the feeling Malfoy sent his giants for a reason. Hermione," she said tentatively, and tentatively on her was like a smile on a centaur—something you noticed.

"Yeah?"

"Would you—would you come with me to the party? I mean, you can say no."

Like I could say no to her. But it would be a tight spot getting through Malfoy's security unnoticed. I supposed I could make some excuse about working on his case, though I knew how Malfoy felt about people getting on his case about anything.

"With my million-Galleon wardrobe? I'll just saunter right in," I said. Hey, I had to make it look like I was tough. Pretty tall order when you're sitting across from the girl I was. Even if she had broken my heart a thousand ways.

"Of course we'll get you some new things," she said hastily. "I didn't mean--"

"I know you didn't mean anything. Don't worry about it."

Speaking of picking up the check, at that moment the waitress lumbered over and dropped the bill on the tabletop. Ginny picked it up and fiddled with it. "Muggle money?" she asked. I nodded. She reached into her dress again and fished out a credit card. Amazing the things she kept in there, and why hadn't I seen her put it back?

"I'm a witch, Hermione," she reminded me, reading my mind again. Come to think of it, she _had_ gotten out of her clothes pretty fast last night.

"Well," I said.

"Well."

"I really do have some things to do today." Like rack my brain for another possible playmate for Pansy.

"Yeah. So I guess we should meet tomorrow before the party? To get you some proper clothes?"

"Sounds good. Where?"

"Why don't you come to the house?" I inhaled deeply, the air whistling between my teeth. I didn't know if I could do it. I was pretty tough, but I didn't know if I was that tough.

"Or we could just meet at the Leaky Cauldron. Two o'clock?" Bless her.

"Two o'clock. The Leaky Cauldron. Check."

We went up to the counter and paid. Headed outside. I was about to turn away to go back to my flat when she caught my arm.

"Hermione," she said. I turned back, but before I could speak she pulled me close and kissed me. One of those whiz-bang kisses that'll make you forget your own name. She was quite a dame. "Don't be late," she whispered. I nodded dumbly and stared after her as she sauntered down the street. Hypnotized by her swinging hips. You'd think a girl who played sports most of her life would've been a little less . . . I don't know. All I knew was she moved like a veela and twice as sexy, which was saying a lot.

After she'd disappeared around a corner I managed to make my legs start working again. I was nearly to my flat when I noticed two bulky wizards loitering in front of the door. I can't say how I knew they were wizards. Could've been intuition. Could've been the wands. Could've been the jinx that knocked me cold on the pavement.

Could've been that.


	4. Chapter 4

I came to who knows how long after. I blinked slowly, mentally checking over my parts. As far as I could tell, they were all still there. Still there, but not moving very well. A second of panic, then I realized I was being held in place. Body-binding spell. A good one. Whoever had me knew what they were doing.

"Good morning, Miss Granger." A low voice from across the room.

"I see the maid hasn't been in," I said. I might not be able to see much but it smelled like a dragon's cave.

"Clever." The voice sounded vaguely familiar, though I couldn't immediately place it. "Though I'm afraid your legendary cleverness won't be of much use to you." I blinked a few more times, trying to adjust to the dim light. It didn't take long. One of the benefits of nocturnal living.

The room was empty except for a low-hanging shaded lamp. Hanging right over me. I was seated in a straight-backed chair in the middle of the place. Interrogation-style. The voice was in front of me, must've been coming from the dark shape lurking in the corner. No windows. Could've been morning, for all I knew. Most likely it was one of those pseudo-witty things the bad guys are always saying.

"What's this about?" I said, hard as I could. Might as well get off to a good start.

"No need to be defensive, Miss Granger. This is just a friendly chat."

"Oh yeah? That explains the Body-Bind. And the comfortable décor."

"I'm sorry if the accommodations are less than your usual standards. Though from what I've seen you should feel right at home."

"What are you talking about?" This guy had been in my flat. None of this was sounding good. Especially since it could be about anything.

"You have something of mine." The shape moved around the room, just out of the light. The voice was making me crazy. I ran down the list of people who might want to knock me out and bind me up. I stopped when I got to the G's. It would take more time than I figured I had to work my way through the entire alphabet.

"Oh yeah? What's that, your back issues of the _Prophet_? Or maybe you're after four crates of empty bottles." Being flip was never a good idea when you're trapped in a windowless room by an unseen bad guy. I was reminded of this by a sharp jolt of pain. "Easy there, pal," I groaned. "You're gonna hurt somebody."

"I was hoping not," the voice said, just behind me. I thought about trying to turn, trying to dredge up some of my old magical skills to break the spell, but the blunt pressure of a wand against the back of my head made me think again. "But that depends entirely on you, Miss Granger."

"Enough of this "miss" business. I haven't been a "miss" since Hogwarts."

"Fair enough."

"So what's this about? You say I've got something of yours. I hate to break it to you, but you've obviously been at my place. I don't even have something of _mine_."

A piece of parchment materialized in front of me. Malfoy's dossier.

"Malfoy?" I cried. "What the fuck?"

"Not Malfoy," the voice replied. Didn't sound like him anyway.

"So who, then? Come on, buddy, I've got plans later."

"Oh, I know." I hated it when the villain tried to outsmart me.

"So you think you could give me a hand? It's great that we get to play Baby's First Interrogation, but I can save you the trouble and just let you know all I've got on Pansy Malfoy is a little hearsay and a little gossip."

"I'm not in the least interested in Pansy Malfoy," the voice hissed.

"So . . . Draco, then? Sure he's a slimy fuck but I suppose he's not without his charms." The pain shot through me again. "All right, all right. Please kind sir, do enlighten me. I promise to be a very good girl and listen quiet as a church mouse."

"I don't recall that being your style, Granger."

So I _did_ know him. Whoever he was. The voice. I racked my brain, trying to identify it. Problem was it only sounded half-familiar. Like they'd applied a transforming charm to it to fool me. If that was the case I was sunk. I'd have to try wit and charm. Unfortunately my stores of both had been pretty much exhausted over the years.

"So what _is_ my style, then? I'd hope it's a little more subtle than yours."

"It's all a matter of degrees, Granger. A matter of experience."

"Yeah?"

"You're someone with a great deal more . . . _experience _than you let on. Very adept at hiding. At sneaking around. At not getting caught."

"That explains my present situation, then, doesn't it?" My captor didn't bother with a spell and whacked me hard upside the head with his wand. What I wouldn't give to rub that spot. Or to use a little rough stuff of my own.

"You're not the only one good at hiding. At sneaking around. At taking things without getting caught."

This guy was starting to get on my nerves. I didn't mind it when people threatened me. It made the day more interesting. But when they went to such lengths to be mysterious it always struck me as more than a little showy. "Enough small talk," I snapped. "I'm a busy girl."

"Oh yes. Very busy." It sounded like the bastard was smiling. Not smiling. _Smirking_. "Terribly sorry to interrupt your packed social schedule, but I'm sure Mrs. Potter won't mind waiting just a little."

My blood boiled. It was one thing to Stun me and stick me in a foul-smelling room. It wasn't the first time, Merlin knows. But to bring Ginny into it took it to a whole other level. "Stay away from her," I growled.

"I might advise you to do the same thing, Granger." He was pissed. And not like I wished I was. "I might advise you to stay just as far away from her as you can."

"Oh yeah?" This asshole was clearly looking for a fight. If I had only been able to move my fingers I would've shown him all the pain he wanted.

"Most definitely."

"And why would I do that?"

"Because she doesn't belong to you."

"Doesn't _belong _to me? Last time I checked, pal, she doesn't _belong_ to anyone."

I must've said something he didn't like because there was a bright flash and then everything went dark.

When I awoke again I had a splitting headache. And my cheek was cold and damp. In fact, my entire body was cold and damp. And sore. And gritty. I twitched my fingers experimentally and felt what seemed to be wet pavement. I groaned and opened my eyes. Street level, judging from the proximity of the car barreling down the road straight for me.

I jerked hard and rolled out of its path. It barreled past me without slowing down. Close call.

I pushed myself up gingerly. Whatever the mysterious bastard had hit me with had left a lasting impression.

"I thought I told you not to come back," an amused voice sneered from behind me.

"Yeah, well, listening isn't one of my strengths," I grumbled. I turned around. Zabini was leaning against the door of his club, arms crossed, a thin smile slicing across his face.

"Clearly," he said.

"So you were just gonna let that car hit me?"

He shrugged. "Accidents happen."

"What about the old days, Blaise? All that inter-house camaraderie?" I needed a drink and how.

"The old days were a long time ago, Granger, and we were never friends."

"Don't have to tell me twice," I muttered. "So are you going to invite me in or what? I'm parched."

"Not open yet. Only four-thirty. So sorry."

"Come on, Zabini. I know you want to."

"You couldn't pay for it even if I did let you in." He had a point.

I couldn't believe I was about to say what I was about to say. "Please?" The hope of a drink made a person do crazy things.

He smirked. "Since you asked so nicely." He stepped into the dim Grotto, not bothering to hold the door. I caught it just before it latched shut. Pompous prick.

It was empty. I could still feel the malice in the air, though, and I reminded myself not to stick around too long. Didn't want to catch something. Zabini walked behind the bar and poured out a glass of scotch. Good stuff, too. The wages of sin bought some fancy drink. "Put it on my tab," I said and tossed half of it back.

"Don't worry about it," Zabini said, obviously forcing the words out. "This one's on Pansy."

_Pansy?_

I didn't know whether to ask Zabini about it or just finish the drink. The pain in my head urged the latter. As I threw it back Zabini sighed heavily. "I'm not staying long, pal. Obviously I got dumped in front of your dump for a reason." He stiffened. "And a very charming dump it is, too," I added hastily. "So why is Pansy Malfoy buying my drinks?"

"Don't ask me," he said. "I don't know why Pansy does half of what she does."

"But she's been around since . . . yesterday?"

"She was here yesterday, Granger, you idiot."

With Ginny. I didn't want to think too hard about it.

"So why the sudden largesse?" Sometimes I could fish a fancy word out from that brain of mine.

"I don't ask too many questions," he said. He looked nervous. It couldn't be. Zabini, proprietor of one of the shadiest of the many shady businesses on this side of town, nervous about a dame? "Last night she just said if you ever came back I should give you what you asked for."

"I didn't know you were in the business of taking orders from the wives of disgraced wizards." The comment cut deep. Zabini's eyes flashed.

"Malfoy's got more power than you know about, Granger," he snapped, then immediately clenched his fists. Not like he was going to hit me. I knew what that looked like. This looked like he was going to hit himself. For saying something he shouldn't have. I was about to open my mouth and probably say something I shouldn't have when the door swung open. Zabini jumped. It was the same bored-looking waitress from the night before. Her eyes narrowed when she saw me.

"Am I interrupting?" she asked coldly. Zabini shook his head.

"Miss Granger was just on her way out."

"Cut it out with the "miss" stuff, Zabini. Do I look like a "miss" to you?"

He eyed me. "You look more like a "what" to me," he sneered. I didn't care. I knew his pride had been shaken. Always happy to help out a friend. I set my glass back down on the counter with a little pang of regret. It was good stuff, all right. Pansy Malfoy had my number. Must've gotten it from—

I shook my head and turned to leave. As I was going out the door Zabini called after me. I looked back at him.

"Pansy says you look good, Granger. Can't say as I agree with her, but we have very different tastes." So I _was_ right about him.

"You tell Pansy she can tell me in person next time," I replied. "I usually don't go for her kind, but hey, I owe her one." Let the door swing closed behind me. Stood on the street for a minute rubbing the sore spot on the back of my head where it had had a friendly conversation with the goon's wand.

As I trudged back to my flat I mulled over the conversation I'd had with Zabini. Malfoy had more power than I thought. But how? He'd been practically in seclusion since the war. Hadn't started any businesses that I knew about, and I made it my business to know about those things. And Pansy. What was she doing in all of it? She was just Malfoy's arm candy. His cover. Never thought a Parkinson would lend anybody any respectability, but when you'd sunk as low as Malfoy I guessed you took what you could get. But she seemed to have a little power of her own, if she could make Zabini quiver. And Pansy would've know about my penchant for the good stuff from Ginny.

Ginny. Her face flashed through my brain and along with it a little pinch. She was mixed up in something, all right. I thought about the mysterious voice from earlier. Because she doesn't belong to you. But who did she belong to, then? Whoever it was who had whacked me upside the skull? It was somebody I knew. Why else would he hide in the dark and charm his voice?

Something started buzzing in the back of my brain. Where I kept what little sense I had left. I didn't know what it was, but it didn't feel good. Felt like Arithmancy, but all the numbers were jumbled up. Something about Harry's disappearance. About Malfoy. About Pansy. About Ginny.

I huffed up the stairs to my flat, not even noticing the landlady screeching at me from her doorway. I fit the key into the lock and realized a second later I shouldn't have bothered. The lock was broken. The door swung open to reveal a state of disarray not even I could've come up with. Papers were scattered everywhere, pulpy sludge tracked across the floor. My desk had been flipped, the drawers scattered around the room. The couch, where I'd found heaven only a few hours earlier, was shredded. I sighed, reached in my back pocket for my wand. Fortunately it hadn't been damaged as much as I had. Only a couple of minor scratches. I flicked the wand around the room and managed to clean up most of the mess. Not that it mattered that much anyway. I knew nothing was missing, except Malfoy's case file. I couldn't say how I knew, it was just a way I had.

I wondered briefly why whoever had done it had gone to so much trouble. Breaking the lock when they could've just used _Alohomora_. Making a point, I guessed. Point made. Didn't change my mind about going to Malfoy's party any. If anything, today had reaffirmed my decision even more. I'd have to be careful about Ginny, though. If she was mixed up in this it wouldn't be good to find myself in a compromising position. I thought about the previous night. I'd miss those compromising positions. But sacrifices had to be made.

I halfheartedly looked to see if my bottle of scotch had escaped unscathed, and was more than a little shocked to find it sitting intact on the windowsill. More than a little shocked, and more than a little grateful. The alcohol burned going down and made me miss the smoothness of Zabini's drink. Oh well. Hopefully I'd come out of this with a little money. Enough to buy a bottle. Hopefully I wouldn't come out of it dead.


	5. Chapter 5

Malfoy's place was lit up like the old days

Malfoy's place was lit up like the old days. Should've been my first clue. But I couldn't see much aside from Ginny. She looked spectacular.

I'd managed to get myself cleaned up all right after my busy day making the rounds. Sleep that night didn't seem like a possibility, but I dug deep and managed to come up with enough loose change to buy a potion off one of the less reputable dealers in my building. So at least I'd woken up not looking like something Crookshanks had coughed up. Crookshanks. I let a little wave of regret wash over me for a minute, but a glance at my watch had made me drop the sad stuff and hustle down to Diagon Alley.

Ginny had met me at the Leaky Cauldron. Seeing her in full daylight had taken my breath away. She was knock-down drag-out beautiful. Just like I remembered. I had let her lead me around like a dog on a chain, first to Madame Malkin's and when none of the dresses I'd tried on had met with her approval we wandered down the half-crowded streets to a dim shop. Everybody inside looked about a thousand years old.

"This is exactly right," she'd said when the tailors had finished the last stitch. I examined myself in the mirror. The tux fit like a glove. I'd never worn such a classy suit, or any formal wear involving trousers, but the gleam of approval in Ginny's eye made me wonder why I'd never tried it before. And I won't lie, the idea of waltzing into Malfoy's wearing a monkey suit with a gorgeous woman on my arm wasn't entirely unpleasant.

Of course, that was before I found myself standing on the stone steps staring up at a giant Slytherin coat of arms. And even though Ginny was holding my arm tightly I still felt less than eager about going in.

"Come on," she hissed. "You're making a scene."

Which I thought was unfair. So maybe I was hanging back a little. So maybe I was holding up the line. Wasn't it more important that I determine why there was such a line to get into a party given by Draco Malfoy, sleazebag par excellance? I couldn't wonder over it too long, though. Ginny was pulling at my arm. I decided to follow her. Who wouldn't follow a red-headed goddess in a skintight golden dress? Only idiots and blind men, and at least a blind man would've followed her smell of honey and amber. To the ends of the earth.

My little reverie was interrupted by the sucking sound of mucus being pulled through a particularly tight nasal cavity. Draco Malfoy himself had come to greet us at the door. From the sneer on his face it was evident that I hadn't been expected. Or it was just his expression. I didn't know. I hadn't seen him in awhile.

I studied him closely. Wondered why he had taken the trouble to greet us personally. Of course, one glance at Ginny was enough to make anyone greet her personally. She had decided on a gold sheath, long and faintly shimmery, tucked neatly under her breasts. She had worn her hair long, and it fell in a smooth red ripple over her right eye. Malfoy's eyes flicked up and down her body, like anybody's would have, but it still took some doing to keep myself from giving him a sock in the jaw. Didn't want to cause another scene. Instead I gave him my best shit-eating grin and shook his hand heartily.

"Draco, pal. Good to see you. Place looks great. Open bar, am I right? Good to hear it." I hooked my arm around Ginny's waist and hustled her inside. Tried to do it quickly enough to keep Malfoy from noticing Ginny wasn't carrying a briefcase.

We had decided leave the briefcase and the money where they were for the time being. Rather, I had decided it and Ginny had eventually gone along with the plan. When I had assured her if anybody was gonna get cursed if the bad guys didn't like it was gonna be me. I wanted a little more time to work over the connections that were starting to form in my brain. At least this way I'd know who it was who wanted the damn thing, instead of Ginny handing it over to some dumb troll who made a career of being a bagman. Amazing how quickly people make things personal when you don't give them what you want. And if things got sticky I always had my wand. Ginny said she had hers too, but I couldn't for the life of me figure out where she had it stashed. A half-sheet of parchment would've stood out if she'd tried to hide it under her dress.

"I'm nervous, Hermione," she breathed next to my ear. "Don't leave me alone."

"Wouldn't dream of it, baby," I said out of the corner of my mouth. "We're a matched set tonight." We crossed through the large entrance hallway to the livelier party in the first drawing room. If "lively" was a word that could be used with this crowd. Their entire purpose for being there seemed to be an unkind curiosity about Malfoy's sudden re-emergence on the social scene. I had to admit I was more than a little curious myself. Eyes raked over me as I escorted Ginny through the throng. I knew they were looking at me because they were whispering behind their hands as I passed. If they'd been looking at Ginny they would've been dumbstruck. At least I would have. But the sight of a not-altogether-welcome face, especially atop an exquisitely tailored tuxedo, was enough to make them choke on their own smarm for half a second.

I knew I couldn't avoid Malfoy forever. He'd be stuck doing the courtesy rounds with his invited guests for at least half an hour. But I suspected top of his list of things to do when pleasantries were dispensed with would be tossing my sorry ass out on the street. I wanted to get a little information before that happened.

Ginny squeezed my arm as two tall wizards approached. I recognized one of them as my friend from the street. Not the one who jinxed me, but still a little too comfortable for my liking.

"Nice party," I muttered. The goons recognized me and went for their wands, but suddenly one of them punched the other on the arm. They looked just over my shoulder and backed off, disappearing into the rest of the party. I turned around and saw Pansy Malfoy slinking over to us. Easy now. I tightened my grip on Ginny's waist a little. Felt like a heel for doing it, but even though she didn't belong to me, as I'd been so politely reminded, I still felt like reminding Pansy of whose date she was. Not very sporting, but I'd never been one for Quidditch.

"Ginny," Pansy drawled. She was wearing a tight little purple number, short enough to make half the room blush and the other half drool. I didn't know which camp I belonged in. Her hair was cut in a blunt bob, sleek and glossy. She had enough lipstick on to kiss everyone in a ten-foot radius and still leave a mark on a champagne glass. I'd never gone in for Slytherins, but Godric Gryffindor himself might've made an exception if he'd seen the way she was wiggling her hips. "And is that Hermione Granger? Goodness, aren't you a sight." She meant it as a compliment, near as I could tell. She leaned in and planted a kiss on Ginny's cheek, a long purplish smear trailing across her skin. "Oh, look what I've done," she said coquettishly, and leaned in again and licked lightly at the spot, rubbing at it with her thumb. She meant it to be provocative. It was, but fortunately I was too busy thinking about getting the bruiselike splotch off Ginny's face before someone thought I'd clocked her one.

"Pansy," I said curtly. Ginny pressed a little closer to me. Not out of fear but because that's the kind of girl she was. Her fingers played with the buttons on the tuxedo jacket. I wasn't used to being used like this, but I figured if this was what being a trophy meant I could do a lot worse.

"So lovely to see you," she purred. "And don't you look dashing. I've always had a weakness for a well-cut suit."

"Isn't that nice," I said, relieved that a waiter was passing by with a tray full of champagne flutes. I flicked my fingers and two of them drifted off the tray and into my and Ginny's hands. I said a little silent thank you to Merlin for letting me pull off a little bit of magic without making an ass out of myself. Charms had never been my forte. Not like the two hot little numbers flanking me. They had enough charms for the three of us. Not to mention everyone else in the room. I realized I was getting looks. Some nasty, most plain envious. Pansy noticed it too.

"Why don't you come into the office where we can have a nice chat?" she said silkily. I looked at Ginny. "Keep away from prying eyes. And ears," she said. There was a naughty promise in her voice. Good thing I kept my naughty promises away from Slytherins.

"I'm a little busy, Pansy," I said. I wasn't. I wished I was. Busy finding out just what the hell was going on, and what Malfoy knew about Harry. About the friendly encounter I'd had the day before. My head was still awfully tender. I hadn't told Ginny about it. She'd get worked up.

"Come on now, Granger," she said. Her voice stayed light and teasing but there was an undercurrent of something dark and urgent. "Let Ginny flirt with the other boys."

Ginny didn't seem the least interested in flirting with the other boys. She kept her hand tight around my wrist. Her body pressed close to mine. If I hadn't been surrounded by people who doubtless wanted me to come to some kind of harm I would've called it close to heaven.

"Not interested, Pansy," I said, turning to go. She reached out and brushed my arm. It felt nice. Nicer than I'd expected. Nicer than I'd hoped.

"Come on," she whispered. "For old times' sake."

"The old times were a long time ago," I said as quietly as I could. "And you and I were never friends."

"Been around to Blaise's, I see," she said just as quietly. So she'd been listening in. What for? "Why don't we go somewhere and talk, Hermione?" she said again. "Somewhere nice and private."

I don't know what came over me. It felt like something hot and fizzy had been let loose in my bloodstream and was making me want Pansy Malfoy something awful. I looked at Ginny. She might have been looking at me strangely. I didn't know. I didn't care. All I knew was right at that moment I was ready to kick her into the arms of whatever passing man happened to step in my line of fire. Or woman. I was ready to follow Pansy Malfoy into whatever nice, private place she wanted. Provided, of course, she kept working that little dress the way she was.

I realized with a sinking feeling there must have been a potion in my champagne. That's why I stick with the hard stuff. It didn't matter that I knew I'd been drugged. I knew vaguely I'd regret it later, but right now all I wanted was Pansy. "Be back in a minute, baby," I muttered. I slipped out of Ginny's grasp, which later I would realize hadn't been as easy as it seemed, judging from the livid purple bruise on my wrist. I saw the red blossom on Ginny's cheeks. It might've set the air on fire it was so hot. But then I felt Pansy's cool hand slide between the buttons of the tux jacket and I let her lead me down a series of stone corridors to a dim room.

It might have been an office. There was a desk that matched the heavy dark paneling. The remnants of a fire glowed in a grate set into one of the walls. Heavy drapes were closed against the night. She shoved me down on the plush sofa. A girl could get used to this.

"So Granger," she hissed, her mouth leaving hot tracks up my neck. "We were never friends."

"No," I stammered. The potion was a good one. A little part of my brain, same place I stored my reason, objected. The rest of me was putty.

"But we could be friends," she murmured. Her fingers were making short work of my jacket.

"Yeah?"

"Oh yes." She straddled my lap, that little skirt riding up. Best belt a girl could ask for. I was dizzy as I'd ever been. Pansy's mouth was hot. Her hips moved like they had a mind of their own. "I think we could be very good friends." Merlin, I wanted her. Like I'd never wanted anything before.

"So what's a girl got to do to be your friend?" I mumbled. Whatever it was, I seemed to be doing it.

"Just play nice," she whispered, biting my lower lip. She sucked it into her mouth and I groaned. I vaguely hoped she'd led me far away from the party. I didn't want Ginny seeing this. Didn't want her seeing how little resistance I was putting up.

"I can play as nice as you want me to," I said thickly. Hard to talk when half your face is occupied in other pursuits. I ran my hands over Pansy's body. She whimpered. If it was for effect it was a hell of an effect. My bones were melting or something like it.

"I have no doubt."

I closed my eyes and let her do whatever she wanted. Felt like a bastard for it, but there was nothing I could do. I was helpless.

"Tell me about the briefcase," she groaned, thrusting her hips against mine. Writhing like a snake. Not that it surprised me.

"The briefcase?" That little rational part lit up again. Started beeping as loudly as it could. Not as loudly as Pansy's heavy breath, too bad for it.

"Yeah," she murmured as she undulated against me. Merlin her hands were quick. "Tell me about it."

"I don't have it," I panted. I knew I shouldn't be talking to Pansy Malfoy about Harry's briefcase. It was pretty damn clear she was playing a bigger part in all of this than I'd originally thought. I knew I shouldn't be doing it, but there were a lot of things I shouldn't be doing at that moment and I seemed to be doing every single one of them. "I don't know what's in it."

"Too bad," she whispered. Suddenly she was off my lap and halfway across the room. My body wasn't at all happy about the change of plans. Without any input from my mind it flung itself off the couch and crawled across the floor to her. She kicked me away. "I was so hoping we could come to an understanding, Granger," she said coldly. It was like a bucket of ice water dumped right on my head. Not anywhere else, though. I kept reaching for her like some kind of lust-crazed animal. Which I was. Fucking potions. At least now I could think a little more rationally, even if I led from the hips.

"What do you want with it?" I managed to get out. She snorted derisively.

"As if I'd tell you," she hissed. "What a brilliant idea."

"Are you just trying to get it for Draco? Since Stunning me and smacking me around didn't seem to accomplish anything?"

A look of confusion flitted across her face. "What are you talking about, Granger?" I believed her. So she didn't know about my little interrogation.

"Well, it's pretty obvious to me that Draco wants whatever's in that briefcase," I said, barreling on ahead. I was just talking. Didn't know how much of it made sense. Of course, I didn't know how much of what I was _thinking_ made sense. Pansy didn't have anything to do with what had happened yesterday. But she had known I'd end up back at Zabini's. She knew about the briefcase, but didn't seem to have any interest in giving it to Draco. Did she want it for herself? Was Malfoy really that untouchable, that his wife could run such a fast game on him? Did he have anything to do with it at all?

Malfoy's goons had delivered the note, Ginny had said. Ginny. I hoped again that she wouldn't be able to find us. Even though Pansy's sudden change of heart had made me realize what I was doing it hadn't caused the potion's physical effects to wear off any. Malfoy's goons. But which Malfoy? That was the new question.

Pansy reached down with a speed and agility I almost envied. She wrapped her hand around my throat, hard and cold as steel. "I want that briefcase, Granger," she said. Her voice was dangerous. "Ginny should've brought it to me like I asked."e

"Ginny . . . should've . . ." I choked.

"Yes," she snapped. "I asked her _so_ politely."

"You've . . . got Harry?"

She tightened her grip. Blackness smoked the sides of my vision. She didn't say anything. Didn't have time to. At that moment the door swung open. Ginny stood silhouetted against it, along with a few other partygoers. The rage on her face was unmistakable. It would've been clear at a hundred paces.

I have to admit it didn't look good. Me on my knees in front of Pansy. My hands on her hips. Her hand around my neck, though she'd used that same quickness to slide it around to the back of my head as soon as she'd heard the door opening.

I struggled to my feet. "Ginny--"

It was all I managed to get out. She swung back and slapped me hard across the face. Tears were glittering in her eyes. Mine too. She still had quite an arm. She turned and fled from the room.

The crowd at the doorway parted. Draco Malfoy glowered at me so hard I thought all the glass in the room might break. "Get the fuck away from my wife," he growled. With that, the two goons rushed me. One of them got me around the throat. The other one grabbed my legs.

Just like that, my party was over. Or maybe it was when they threw me out. Literally. I landed hard on the gravel drive a good ten feet from the doorway.

I stood up slowly. I was sore already. I could only imagine how it'd be in the morning. And I'd have to talk to Ginny. Not the sort of sniveling apology she'd be expecting, either. I had the distinct feeling I'd been set up in more ways than one.

Dames. Pretty as a picture. Cold as ice.


	6. Chapter 6

The morning dawned gray and cool. Mist from the river saw fit to wind itself through the flat. Like everything else that ended up there it was thick and dirty. Not as dirty as I was. I had gotten home from Malfoy's party a little worse for wear and after drowning those particular troubles in the remnants of my scotch I had passed out, still wearing the fancy tux.

When my eyes cracked open I was face to face with the cold reality of another day. Not to mention a hell of a hangover. I rubbed my eyes gingerly, then stretched my legs. A large scrape from the gravel drive pulsated with pain. I fished my wand out from under the sofa and tapped the skin carefully. The wound closed. Couldn't fix the pants. Tough break.

A knock at the door. I groaned. That door had seen more action in the past two days than it had in the past two months. Too bad none of the action included cash. My visitor didn't bother waiting for me to answer and pushed the busted plank open.

"Nice party?"

It was Ginny. Merlin. She looked cold, and not like she'd just come from a winter scenic tour of the Northumberland Lochs. Her hair was pulled back tightly and the rest of her was just as tight, a long black fitted suit, the skirt penciling down to a hem so sharp it looked like it was about to cut her off at the knees. She was wearing gloves. I worried for a moment that she'd come to finish me off. Though once again her outfit clung so tightly to her body that the outline of a wand would've been a dead giveaway. Did she ever carry it?

"I've been to better," I mumbled. My mouth felt like it'd had a cotton charm put on it. She crossed a little nearer to me but didn't get close enough to touch. Her lips were set in a hard line. Her eyes were flat as Knuts. She didn't look happy to see me.

"I'd say you had a grand time," she said, the hint of a snarl in her voice.

"I was poisoned, Ginny," I snapped. "I thought you'd at least have worked that out." What I _really_ thought was that she'd had a hand in it, but I figured I'd play nice until I knew whether or not she felt like buying me breakfast.

"I know," she said. I'd hoped it'd make her soften a little toward me but she was about as soft as a centaur. Hell, I didn't feel decent about what had happened. Thinking about Pansy Malfoy crawling all over me was as appealing as a dinner date with a boggart. I chuckled. No doubt that's exactly what my dinner date with a boggart would be.

"What?" Ginny said crossly. I didn't feel like telling her. I didn't feel like telling her much, not with the suspicions that were ticking in my head.

"Just wondering where you keep your wand," I replied. A look of disgust flitted across her face. Against my better judgment and sense of self-preservation I couldn't help but think of what a knockout she was. Even when she was being disapproving. "And what brings you to my humble abode this lovely morning?" I said, standing up and brushing the gravel dust and other assorted wreckage from my suit. Ginny was silent for a moment, watching me. I felt a little flush of victory. I could still make her stare. Of course, that little flush of victory headed right to the spot where it had no business being.

After another second she blinked and coughed slightly. "Turn around," she said.

"Me?"

"I don't see anyone else, thank Merlin," she replied.

"And I'm turning around because . . ."

"Because I asked you to," she said irritably. I shrugged and faced the wall. Snuck a peek. Couldn't resist. She was lifting one side of her skirt. I gulped. She had pins to make a Death Eater plead for Dumbledore's mercy. Her fingers inched up the long white expanse of her thigh, revealing her wand. It was held flat against her skin by a snug black garter. The girl had style.

I must've made some kind of a sound. It didn't seem possible that I wouldn't. She flushed a deep red and pointed her wand at me. "I asked you to turn around!"

"Did you honestly think I would? Turn my back on someone who very probably wants me to suffer great physical pain?"

"For good reason," she added, lowering her wand.

I shrugged again. "So what's the stick for?"

She glowered at me and removed her necklace. I hadn't noticed she was wearing it. A thick gold chain with a large round pendant. A moon or something. She'd worn it last night. I had definitely noticed it then, since it had been nestled comfortably in what I'd so fleetingly thought of as my personal cleavage. She set the pendant down on the desk and tapped it with her wand. I opened my mouth to ask a stupid question but she held up her hand. A few seconds ticked by and the unmistakable sound of Pansy Malfoy's voice filtered into the room.

I shuddered. I couldn't help it. Ginny shot me a dirty look and I shook my head. "I'd rather dance a tango with a troll," I said. I thought I saw a half-smile try to crack through her icy veneer.

"—we'll have it," Pansy was saying. "She didn't bring it, I got word from the guards at the gate. I think that Granger bitch convinced her not to." A muffled male voice. Couldn't make out what he was saying. Then Pansy again, laughing. "Don't worry about it, love. I've poisoned the champagne. She'll be putty in my hands." More muffled words. Sounded like a protest. "Of course not! Do you think I want to put myself through it? But it's for us, my darling. Oh, wait, Blaise has just seen them come in." The voices stopped.

I looked at Ginny with admiration. I wanted to kiss her. At the very least I wanted to throw her down on the sofa to get a good look at that garter.

"I charmed it to pick up Pansy's voice from a hundred feet," she said. "I didn't know if she'd be up to anything, but I thought it would be smart just in case."

"I'll say," I said.

"I knew you were poisoned before I heard it," she said a little quietly. "I thought it might happen. Because you wouldn't--" she stopped.

"Never in a million years. Not for a million Galleons."

"It still hurt," she went on. Her lip trembled. "Seeing it."

"I know," I said softly. "I'm sorry. Thinking about it now, well, it makes me want to throw up. If I had anything to throw up."

She reached toward me tentatively, then stopped. She shook her head like she was shooing away a pixie. "I don't know who she was talking to," she said brusquely.

"Draco?"

"Couldn't have done, he met us at the door."

"Yeah. Right." I sat back down on the sofa and kicked off my shoes. Have to be pretty pissed to fall asleep with shoes on. "I didn't see Zabini there. But I wasn't really looking for him."

"Didn't have much time, either," Ginny said a little sharply.

"Come on, Ginny, are you ever going to let it go?"

"Not for a little while," she replied. "I figure I can use it against you for at least a few weeks."

I didn't take the time to fully savor her words. A few weeks. I tucked them back in a nice warm little corner of my mind for later.

"So who was she talking to?"

"I have no idea. But it proves she wants the briefcase for someone else. Someone not her husband. Did she ever—I'm gonna ask you a few questions, if you don't mind, and some of them you may not like, but I have to." Ginny nodded, her eyes downcast. She looked like a nun. The image almost made me laugh again but I held it in. "When you two were . . . running around, did she have anyone else that you knew of? Any men?"

Ginny thought for a while. "Nobody serious. She'd go around with a few guys she met at Zabini's, but it mostly just seemed like a good time. I'd see them one night but never again."

"Anybody you knew?"

She shook her head. "I didn't make it my business to know too many of Pansy's friends."

"How did you—and here's where we start the ones you might not like—how did you two start . . . you know." I felt like a fool for not being able to say it. But I just couldn't ask. How did you two start seeing each other? How did you two start fucking?

Ginny blushed a little. I tried to keep up my suspicions but her pretty face was making it a hell of a job. "It was . . ." she paused like she was trying to work up the courage. "It was Ron," she said finally.

It hit me hard. My mouth went even drier than it had been. I clutched at the dirty cushions. "Oh yeah?" I said weakly.

She took a deep breath. Like she wanted to get it all out at once and I loved her for it. "After you two split up, well, he wasn't too happy," she said. Putting it mildly. I wondered briefly where she'd learned such diplomacy. I guess being a con man's wife has its fringe benefits. "Moaning about how he'd lost the will to live, all that stuff. Got so bad I couldn't take him anywhere any more. He was living with me and Harry then. Making Harry crazy. Making me crazy too, but I'm his sister, I'm supposed to be supportive. Besides, I had other reasons for being crazy about it," she paused. "But I figured I'd be able to hide it easier if I helped him out."

"Harry was his best mate, isn't that his job?"

"Well, Harry was starting to develop . . . other interests," she said almost embarrassed. "He wasn't too keen on listening to Ron whinge on about his ex-girlfriend." She shuffled through the papers on my desk. Looking for a cigarette. She lit it with her wand and inhaled deeply. "So anyway, Harry had started hanging around with some Slytherins, shady characters, and I figured it would be best if I took Ron around too."

I raised my eyebrow.

"Slytherins don't ask questions," she said. "And they'll sell you anything if you've got the gold." She took another drag. "It was Harry's idea, really. Said if Ron was so desperate for a woman why didn't I just go get him one. I tried to explain that it wasn't just any woman he wanted, but Harry didn't care. Said get him a woman and get him a good potion and he'd be fine. I don't know why I went along with it, Hermione," she said quickly. Her eyes were starting to well up. "I don't know why I did and I'd take it back in a second if I could."

I could see it clearly. Ginny had taken Ron to Zabini's. Gotten him started on some bad junk to take his mind off things. I didn't doubt that she hadn't meant for it to get out of hand, but what I remembered of Ron made him an easy target for fast living. "And Pansy?" I asked, trying to keep my voice neutral.

"After the war Draco didn't have a lot of options. Not a lot of legitimate ones, anyway. Zabini's was the perfect place for him to set up shop."

Draco Malfoy a potions peddler. How the mighty have fallen. Explained how he managed to keep the manse so immaculate. An underground business, nothing on the books, nothing anybody else would have to attach their name to. Merlin, I needed a drink.

"So that's how I got hooked up with Pansy. Malfoy never shows his face in public if he can avoid it. Pansy runs everything on the street. She was more than happy to . . . help Ron out," she said bitterly. "Giving a blood traitor that first kick to help him slide into the gutter seems to be a favorite pastime of theirs."

"But why did you . . ."

"Because I missed you!" she cried. "Because I'd been hanging around Ron for months, listening to him go on and on about you. How do you think it made me feel? When I'd been going through the same thing, only longer? And I couldn't even _talk _about it!" The tears were falling fast and thick. "And so Pansy and I used to see quite a lot of each other. And sometimes we'd . . . get into a little bit of the merchandise."

It stung to hear her talking about it like that. Like a professional. A nasty wave of guilt washed over me. The kind that comes pre-loaded with driftwood and dirty needles.

"I told her about you," Ginny whispered. "We'd been up late. We were both pretty gone on the stuff, and it just came out. Before I knew what happened. And she looked at me funny and said she'd always wondered about me and then she was kissing me. At that point I just didn't care. If I couldn't have you I didn't care who I had." She was crying hard then. I wanted to wrap my arms around her and kiss the tears away. I wanted to throw her out of the flat. I just sat there.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," she sobbed. "I'm so sorry."

"But it's all over now," I said. She nodded. "And Ron?"

She went silent. Shook her head.

"He isn't . . ."

"I don't know," she whispered. "I haven't seen him in almost a year. Last time I did he was living in some filthy place and he barely knew who I was." She took a deep breath. Lit another cigarette. "I can't tell you how hard it was for me to leave him there," she said, her voice barely audible. "My brother. My own brother, and I'd done it to him and all I could do was leave him."

"You didn't do it to him," I said. My voice was hollow. Mouth felt like the Serengeti. I wanted a drink so bad I thought I'd pass out.

We sat in heavy silence for a few minutes. Ginny's sniffling faded out.

"So what about the briefcase?" I asked dully. "Anybody been around to inquire?"

"No," she said. She sounded dead tired. I wondered if she'd slept last night.

"Little odd," I said.

"Yes."

"I could have a drink," I said.

"Me too."

We headed for the door. Got there at the same time. Stiff little dance for a moment and I let her go out ahead of me.

Nobody was in the café. "Two of Joe's special," I muttered to the waitress. "Hold the joe." She shuffled behind the counter silently. No crosseyed looks. It's why I love this place.

Ginny sat silently at the table, engrossed in the peeling Formica. "We have to find out who Pansy was talking to," I said. She nodded. "We have to find out what's in that briefcase." She nodded again. "You know how to get into it?"

"I can figure it out," she said. Of course she could.

"Anybody at home?"

"Just me and the mice."

"Sounds like it's time I paid a visit to your place." I tried to keep my hands from shaking. Even though I knew whatever cozy family life I would see there was a joke, I still didn't want to have to put myself through it. The waitress set two mugs half-filled with thin amber liquid in front of us. I downed mine immediately. Felt good. Ginny fiddled with the handle for a moment before taking a sip.

"I'm going to leave him," she said. "When I get him back, I'm going to leave him."

I coughed a little. Must be the whiskey. Must be the whiskey making me so warm. Not Ginny leaving Harry. Couldn't be that. "You don't say."

"I do say. First thing I'm going to do is punch him right in the jaw, second thing I'm going to do is pack a suitcase. Do you think . . ." she paused and threw back her drink. Her cheeks flushed a little. "Do you think you might have a little room?"

"It's all I've got," I said. "But you're welcome to it."

"Good," she said, looking out the window. "I want out of all of it."

"Good," I repeated. It was the best news I'd heard all week.


	7. Chapter 7

"So Pansy Malfoy's after Harry's briefcase," I said for the thousandth time. I pulled the last crumbling cigarette out of its beat-up pack, checked for Muggles, and lit the end with my wand.

"Yes," Ginny said. Good girl, not half as exasperated as I would've been. I had been trying to puzzle the whole thing out as we walked toward her house. It was making me crazy. I used to be so good at puzzles.

"What do you think is in it?"

"I told you, I have no idea. He never said."

"Just don't give it to anybody. Could it be a weapon?"

She shrugged. "It could be anything."

Right. Anything. But what would Pansy want? More to the point, what did whoever she was giving it to want? Who was it for?

"I don't have any idea, Hermione," Ginny said, a slight hint of weariness creeping into her voice. Must've said that last part out loud.

"Okay, then, who is it _not_ for?" Process of elimination.

"Harry," she said. "That one's obvious."

"I guess so," I replied. Though I was beginning to be less and less sure of that. Not that I thought he would've kidnapped himself and demanded a ransom that already belonged to him, it didn't make any sense. Though not very much of it made any sense. Still, had to keep my options open. "Who else?"

"Malfoy. He saw us at the party. It wasn't him Pansy was talking to."

"It could be a team effort," I said. She shook her head.

"I don't think so. You don't go to all that trouble to sneak around on your husband on the off chance that someone might be listening, I don't care if you _are_ a Slytherin."

She would know something about sneaking, all right.

"Harry didn't give two damns who I slept with," she said. Reading my thoughts again. Come to think of it she had done pretty well at those Occlumency lessons. "I never had to pretend."

"But Pansy did?"

"Malfoy might have been a lot of things, but a permissive husband he wasn't," she said. I ought to give her half my take on this case. Of course, the way she was dressed, she probably didn't need it. "And anyway, unless there was a big vial of Polyjuice Potion in that briefcase nothing in there would really do him any good. He's got the most known face in town."

"Ugliest, too," I said offhandedly. "Malfoy was on to her, anyway." Ginny looked surprised. "What did you think I was doing at Zabini's that night? Malfoy hired me to find out who she was running around with." She blushed. I grinned. "So what other man would be involved?" She shrugged.

"I really don't know, Hermione."

"It has to be someone. Someone who worked with Harry. Someone who knew about that briefcase and what was in it." This was getting me nowhere. "Zabini's out."

"How come?"

"Well, for one thing he doesn't strike me as the type to run around with Pansy. Or any woman, for that matter." Ginny nodded, smiling. "Anyway, he doesn't seem like much more than a two-bit sleazebag. And he's scared of her. It's easy to fake a lot of things, but a Slytherin faking being afraid of anything but a bar of soap, that's not so easy."

"So it must be someone else. I don't know ninety percent of who Harry was in business with. Could be anybody."

We were at a dead end. Literally. I hadn't noticed it but the road had turned wide and smooth. Trees lining the sidewalks. A nice little suburban lane.

"Here we are," Ginny said, half uncertain. She looked at me closely, then took my hand and squeezed it.

I took a deep breath as I stared up at the front of Ginny's place. Being on the front lines of the biggest battle in history couldn't prepare me for the thought of going inside. The war begins at home, so they say. So it was.

"Come on," Ginny said, tugging at my arm.

"Yeah," I muttered, throwing my cigarette on the curb. I ground it out with my foot. Shame to disturb the neatness of the place, but I had other things on my mind.

The house was located in one of the nicer suburbs, a far cry from my squalid inner-city digs. There was a yard. Well-tended. Some nice trees, if that's what does it for you. The house itself was smaller than I expected, which is to say it was only about two-thirds the size of Malfoy's place. No peacocks, either. Just your standard suburb avian life. A sparrow or something cheeped from a branch. Through one of the windows I caught a glimpse of an aspidistra. "Homey," I said as civilly as I could. Didn't feel as bad as I'd feared, though. Despite all its middle-class pristine gleam the whole setup looked as phony as a ten-Knut wand.

Ginny was walking up the little concrete lane that led to the front door. She tapped her wand on the lock and the works sprung open. The house was dark inside. Silent. She went in. I hung back. Steadying myself. Focusing on the sham of it all. I took a deep breath and followed her in.

The interior of the place was as blandly bourgeois as the burbling water feature planted next to one of the oaks outside. Bourgeois, with little flashes of taste that must've come from Ginny. Light wood floors. Pale walls. An anonymous sitting-room set complete with tasseled ottomans. I could tell from the factory creases that it hadn't been used much. So far no sign of family life. If it kept on like this I thought I might just make it.

Ginny disappeared down one of the dim corridors. I followed her. Nice tapestry carpet runner. Pictures flickered on the walls. I didn't look.

"They came with the frames, most of them," she called from a room at the end of the hall. "Harry wanted it to look like somebody actually gave a damn."

I breathed a little sigh of relief. Not too loud. The place was quiet as a mausoleum. All of a sudden I got a funny little prickling feeling. The old Sneakoscope started whirring in my head again. Like I was being watched. I shook it off and followed Ginny's voice into the kitchen.

It was sunny. Not warm, but it's hard to make a stainless-steel vault feel comfortable. Every surface looked untouched. There were some modern Muggle appliances mixed in with a good old-fashioned stove. Old-fashioned but brand-new. Ginny trying to replicate a real home, I guessed. She was fishing in a cupboard for something. Pulled out a bottle of firewhiskey. "Not your brand, but I figure it'll do," she said with a half-smile. Took a couple of glasses from another cupboard.

"Where's the safe?" I asked. Didn't want to disturb the little domestic scene she was working up but the prickly feeling was damned persistent.

"Upstairs," she said. "In Harry's office."

"Good." I took the glass she handed me and swirled it around. It'd been a long time since I'd had any real firewhiskey. Took an appreciative sip.

"Like it?" she asked. I nodded. Merlin's beard, I liked it.

We sat in the kitchen silently for a few minutes. I looked around a little more. Everything steel, everything polished. Give a girl a headache from the glare.

"I don't really come in here much," she admitted. "I'm not much for cooking."

"Guess we'll be taking our meals elsewhere," I said. "I can't boil water with three wands and someone else to do it for me." She giggled. I loved that sound.

"Hermione," she said, and stopped. I raised my eyebrow along with my glass. She bit her lip. "I didn't mean it. Pansy," she added. "I didn't want it. I didn't like it. But it was . . . it was _contact_, I guess."

I held up my hand. I didn't want to talk about Pansy Malfoy. Not that way. Ginny crossed to me and took my hand. Her touch was magic. Not spells and potions. The real stuff. I pressed her fingers to my lips. She tasted like nicotine and heaven.

"Can I show you something?" she asked. Like she needed my permission. I swallowed the rest of my drink and set the glass on the countertop. She led me out of the room and up a set of well-carpeted stairs. A few doors, some open to reveal quiet rooms. The toilet. What looked like a spare bedroom. The rest closed. "Harry's office," she said as we passed a room with one too many locks on the door for my comfort. I thought we would stop there but she kept moving and I kept following. She came to a halt at the farthest door. "My bedroom," she murmured.

"Not Harry's?"

She shook her head and pointed back down the hallway. "His is through there," she said indicating a small passage I hadn't noticed. I kicked myself mentally. I should notice these things. But trailing after Ginny meant my ability to notice was severely diminished.

"Cozy setup," I said. She grimaced. "I like it," I continued. "No complaints here."

She turned the knob and the door opened without a sound. Unlike the rest of the house Ginny's bedroom was genuinely warm. Not just the temperature. The room was spacious without feeling too big. Nice furnishings. A big bed. Not the time to think what I was thinking.

Ginny seemed to have other ideas. "It's over here," she said almost coyly.

"What is?"

"This," she whispered, pulling me close. It might have been the firewhiskey but all of a sudden my legs turned to jelly. She pressed her mouth to mine and I thought I'd pass out. Her tongue worked all sorts of tricks against mine. I felt her fingers fumbling against my body, and it took me a second to realize she was unbuttoning her jacket and not mine. Not that I minded either way. She slid it off her shoulders. Smooth and white. Little constellations of freckles. Just like I remembered.

"I thought you might like to see," she breathed. Did I ever.

She pushed me onto the bed and unbuttoned her skirt. Long row of buttons all down the side. The kind of skirt you wear when you want to torture someone with taking it off. It slid to the ground to join its partner.

"Ginny," I mumbled weakly, "it's not that I'm not crazy to see you taking your clothes off, but is this really the time?"

She shushed me with a look. "A little longer can't hurt," she murmured. "I want to. I want to do it in his house."

"Kinky," I breathed hoarsely as she slid her wand from its garter. She waved it over me and like a dream my clothes were puddle on the floor. She leaned in and the sensation of her bare skin on mine was like an explosion. I groaned as her fingers wandered deftly across my body. "Ginny," I whispered. And then like I knew I shouldn't, "I love you."

"I love you too," she replied softly, her mouth making little expeditions down my throat. My head was spinning. The drink had been a strong one. Ginny was making me feel all kinds of things. She pushed me farther up on the bed and settled her body on mine. "I love you, Hermione." Her fingers. Her mouth. I brushed her long curtain of red hair away from her face. Eyes glittering like diamonds. Lips like whatever the poets say they are.

"I . . . I love . . ." Something was going wrong. My head spun faster and faster. My mouth was getting dry. I blinked. She was all out of focus. I saw her face coming towards mine with a wide smile crossing from ear to ear. A hungry kind of smile. A predator's smile.

"Goodnight, darling," she whispered. Everything went black.


	8. Chapter 8

Blackness. My old friend. We were getting to be pretty familiar these days. So was the feeling of total helplessness. Body-bind again. The cool breeze, though, that was a new one. I groaned softly, trying to fight off the last of the poison. I was in as tight a spot as I'd ever been, and when you've built your career on getting into tight spots that was saying something. I could hear voices murmuring. More than one. I thought I could hear Ginny's low whisper but I couldn't be sure. The potion was taking its sweet time.

I managed to crack one eyelid. Blurry shapes in front of me. Could've been anywhere. Nothing to do but wait. And think.

She'd double-crossed me. It stung more than I'd thought it would. I'd suspected her a little right from the beginning. I decided I had. Made it easier to take. But why? I didn't think she still had anything going with Pansy Malfoy. I couldn't say why I thought that, it was just a feeling. Like that little prickle at the back of my mind, only this time I decided to listen. Still, it didn't make the shit luck of it all any easier. Not that luck had anything to do with it. But why? That was the part that hovered just out of reach, like a rune with one of the lines drawn crooked. I thought as hard as the potion would let me, but I was stumped. I loved her. That was what hurt the worst. I knew it was a mistake. It had always been a mistake. But I hadn't been able to help myself.

I tried my eyes again. They were feeling a little more cooperative. The blur was coalescing into the far wall of Ginny's bedroom. I must still be on the bed. That would mean the cool breeze was from—Merlin's balls. I strained my eye in its socked. Rewarded with a sharp pain. I'd felt worse. Like what I felt as I took in the sight of my clothes still piled on the floor. At that point, the hierarchy of betrayal took on a whole new look. A doublecross was one thing. Immobilizing me naked on the bed right after you'd double-crossed me, that was something else entirely. The voices were getting clearer. It was definitely Ginny. Sounded like Pansy Malfoy as well. Couldn't make out what they were saying, but it sounded nice and cozy.

There was another voice. Male. Familiar again. I strained my ears but I still couldn't quite make it out.

"I think she's coming to," Ginny said. There was a smile in her voice. Malicious. I blinked again, hard. Everything snapped into focus. I was there, on Ginny's bed. Naked. Frozen stiff. She was standing on the other side of the room. She'd had the courtesy to dress herself, at least. Pansy Malfoy stood next to her, arms folded, staring at me with one eyebrow cocked like I was the latest broomstick propped up in a shop window. Take it in, you fucking bitch.

Neither one of them had their wands drawn, and I couldn't tell if Ginny's was strapped to her leg. Not that they'd need them. Would've made me feel better in a perverse way. A little more formidable.

I heard a scuffling sound by the doorway and strained my orbs once again, trying to make out who it was. The man, I guessed. He hovered just out of sight.

"Darling," Pansy simpered, crossing to him. At least she wasn't looking at me any more. Ginny, on the other hand, circled around the bed like a vulture.

"Nice of you to join the party," she murmured. She flashed her teeth. Not a smile. I struggled to speak. I didn't know what I'd say, but I figured it wouldn't be proper in mixed company anyway. Ginny sat on the edge of the bed next to me, her eyes suddenly dark and serious. "I'm sorry," she said quietly so the others couldn't hear. I'll bet.

I was in a bind. Literally. Figuratively it could've been worse. Ginny could've just pulled out her wand and with a little breath she could've sent me home down the lazy river to join all my old friends. Dumbledore. Fred. Hell, even Crabbe. But she'd chosen to keep me around. Why? Why had I gotten mixed up in whatever this was anyway? It's not like anybody needed my help to bilk Harry Potter out of a few Galleons. It's not like I was crying out for some two-Knut dame to break down my door. Sure I'd gotten a couple of nice nights out of it, but on the whole the arithmetic was shady.

And what was Ginny doing in this whole business anyway? It's not like she needed the money. It was probably her money anyway. She'd done just fine for herself. The briefcase? But she could get it any time she wanted it. She said herself she'd be able to figure out how to get at it. And with Harry out painting the town Gryffindor red with his boys, she seemed to have all the time in the world. What was in it? The curiosity was killing me. Ginny's eyes on my body were killing me. Everything was killing me, I just wasn't dead yet.

"Is it time?" Pansy's voice. Hard. A muffled yes from the mystery date. "Let's go, then," she whined. "Let's just get it over with."

"Not yet," Ginny said suddenly, her voice louder than it needed to be. She caught herself. "A few minutes couldn't hurt anything," she finished, a little softer.

"Well hurry up," Pansy snapped. "Someone could catch wise."

I found myself wishing they'd hurry up too. Suddenly that lazy river was looking mighty nice. After all, what did I have? A shitty flat and a broken heart. Not a lot to build a life on. I looked hard into Ginny's eyes trying to figure her out. Trying to figure anything out. Trying to tell her to just go ahead and _Avada Kedavra _my ass into oblivion, since she'd taken care of everything else so handily.

Ginny looked at me strangely before she sat up. Like there was something she wanted to say.

"Hold on," the muffled voice said. Ginny looked over at him and I could feel the heat from her eyes. It was nice. I was freezing.

Suddenly my jaw seemed to melt a little. My tongue flopped around uselessly inside my mouth for a second and I realized someone had knocked the charm back a little. "What the fuck is this?" I rasped. "Ginny, what the fuck are you doing?"

"It's not me, Hermione, I don't--" she started. Interrupted by the gentleman caller. How chivalrous.

"Ginny's just been . . . erm, _tying up_ a few loose ends," he said. Pansy howled with laughter. A little much, I thought. Ginny was a much better actress. But something—

I realized with a thunderbolt who was talking to me. No way. No fucking way.

Harry Potter strode into my line of sight.

"All those months in the woods and I never once saw you naked, Granger," he said, malice oozing off him like grease from Malfoy's hair. "Pity." I wanted to spit at him but it was clear from the way the saliva gurgled in my throat they hadn't bothered to lower the charm enough to allow me even that simple pleasure. I coughed with difficulty. Found myself wanting a drink. Even Ginny's poisoned firewhisky. Potter walked around the bed, examining me. I felt lower than a flobberworm with a head cold.

"I've got one up on you then, Potter," I said as nastily as I could. Not my best retort, but I had to start somewhere.

"Yes, well," he said dismissively. "Ginny, be a darling and fetch me my wand."

Ginny shot him a cold look. Set her lips thin. Stalked out of the room.

"She's such a good girl," Harry said almost fondly. "So useful."

"Not your girl, Harry," I said.

"Not yours either," he smirked. "She doesn't belong to you, remember."

Of course I remembered. Of course it was him warning me to stay away from her. Of course he had enchanted his voice so I wouldn't recognize it, the bastard was supposed to be rotting away in some dank cellar somewhere. But if she was a part of this plan why had he gone to all the trouble?

"Had to keep you interested, didn't I?" He smirked again. Of course _he'd_ had ample training in mind-reading. Probably picked up a few tricks from his tricks along the way, too. Have to make sure they're not out to steal his gold.

"I would've stayed interested, Potter. A girl like Ginny, you stay interested without any help."

"That's where you and I differ." He leaned close and flicked something off my collarbone. I could feel his breath. I would've shuddered. I would've punched him in the mouth. "A fly," he said. "Don't want to make you look silly."

"What's this all about?" I said again, trying to make myself sound a little more forceful. Pretty tough to sound forceful when you're immobilized from the neck down, but I was doing my best. "It's your fucking money. It's your fucking briefcase."

"That may be," he said. "But I had to make it look like so much more. That briefcase," he leaned close again. I tried to keep down my nausea. Didn't want to meet old Mad-Eye with a gullet full of vomit. "That briefcase can't just be _opened_."

"So it's a pretty nice one, then? Dragon skin and goblin fittings? Saving it for a special occasion?"

He hit me across the face. Hurt like a bastard. That bastard. I could feel blood oozing out of my nose. Could taste it on my tongue. Pansy gasped a little.

"What is contained in that briefcase is more important than you or I could ever be, Granger," he hissed.

"More important than The Boy Who Lived? The Boy Who Lived And Went On To Be A Dirty Doublecrossing Shit?"

He raised his hand to hit me again and Ginny shouted from the doorway. He smiled a little. Raised the hairs on the back of my neck, that smile. At least I figured it did. "Yes," he said, his voice pinched. "More important than that."

"So what is it? Come on, Potter, it's pretty clear you're going to off me anyway. Let's have it."

Harry just smiled again. "It really is a shame we didn't get to know each other better out there," he said. The slimy fuck. "Pansy, darling, don't you think so?" Pansy crossed next to him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Made my skin crawl, I guessed. At least the skin on my face.

"Oh, I don't know," she said sweetly. "You'd have to ask Ginny."

I wanted to strangle both of them with my bare hands and to hell with a wand. I wanted both of them to look into my eyes as I did it. They were just that kind of people.

"Fuck you," I croaked.

"You had your chance," she shot back. I had to admit it was a pretty snappy retort.

Harry stood up sloughing Pansy off like an old boomslang skin. "My wand, Ginny." She gave it to him, but I could see that her hand was trembling. Her other hand drifted down to her thigh. Fingers twitching. She must have her own wand snapped safely against her skin. I caught Ginny's eye. Not hard to do. She was looking at me. A pleading look, I would've said if she hadn't poisoned my whiskey and bound me up naked on her bed. But there was something in that look, something that made me want to play for time. Maybe Dumbledore and the others could wait a while. Play another hand of Exploding Snap, or whatever it was they did over there. Take some time before dealing me in to the game.

"So Potter," I called after him. "You didn't finish telling me why you kidnapped yourself. Unless it was just because even _you_ were tired of being around you."

He stopped. Turned back. His eyes were almost black. Never a good sign. But my ploy seemed to have worked. I figured it would, since the bad guy can never resist the opportunity to brag.

"I needed it to look that way, Granger," he said silkily. His fingers sliding up and down his wand. "The briefcase won't open unless I'm in mortal danger."

"But you were never _in _mortal danger." This seemed obvious enough even for Pansy, who was looking interested.

"It won't open," he said, "unless it _thinks_ I'm in mortal danger."

"And how, pray tell, did you go about doing that? Faking your own kidnapping wouldn't fool a Hufflepuff."

"Fooled you, didn't it? More importantly, it fooled Ginny. At least for a while. And the spell I put on that case included her. It wouldn't open until one of us believed my life was at stake."

"Touching," I spat.

"Isn't it? She believed it just long enough for the enchantment to break. Until I had Pansy here send her a little love note filling her in. Once she knew the plan I must say she quite took to it."

"Five days later?" I asked. Eyes back on Ginny. She was bright red. Still clawing at her leg. Shook my head. Would've. "So she brought me in. What the fuck for? So your life was allegedly at stake. Just open the goddamned case already and be done with it. I was doing just fine without all this shit, thanks."

"Ginny?" Harry said. She opened her mouth a few times. Good impression of a goldfish.

"I . . ." She didn't seem to be able to continue. Harry pointed his wand at her. The blush was sucked back into her cheeks in an instant. She was dead white. Took a deep breath. I suddenly wanted to kill Harry even more. I wish I knew a little necromancy. I wanted to kill him and bring him back to life so I could kill him again. Even his zombie corpse. Even though Ginny had screwed me but good, I still held that little flickering flame for her. Right in the part of my brain that controlled stupidity.

"Ginny?" he said again, bearing down slightly.

"Ron," she cried finally. "I did it because of Ron."

I would've frozen if I wasn't frozen already. Ron. Her brother, who I'd loved and left. All because of her.

"It's not my fault what happened to him," I said quietly. "If it's anybody's fault it's those two." Harry. Pansy, who was trying to slink away.

"I know that now!" she all but shouted. "I know! But Hermione, when Pansy told me what was going on, I was still so mad at you. I wanted to kill you. You didn't see him," she said, tears starting to gather in her eyes. "You didn't see what he'd turned into. My _brother_, Hermione!" she cried. "I loved him, and you didn't see it, but . . ." She broke down. Fell to the floor. I didn't think she was acting now. If she was it was to make Olivier throw down his CBE.

"So you just thought you'd use the opportunity to take care of a few outstanding problems?" Nothing like kicking a girl when she's down. I ought to know.

Ginny didn't say anything. She was crying too hard. She must've saved up all those sobs over all the years that I'd known her when she never shed a tear. She'd cried more in the past two days than the past decade.

"Answered all of your questions?" Harry snapped. He was clearly itching to get down to business.

"What's in the case, Potter?"

"Ahh, the case." I wanted to slug him right in his melodramatic kisser. "It contains something more powerful than--"

"You and me and baby makes three, yadda yadda yadda. What's in the fucking case?"

He smiled again. That same creepy smile. Stroked his wand. "A spell. A very ancient, powerful spell. A spell that will cause all the good works--" his mouth twisted at that—"done by all those well-meaning witches and wizards fall into dust."

"So you're bringing back the big man?" I said. I didn't even bother to be shocked. I'd wondered before if Harry might have gone a little mad with power. And seeing as how I was all but dead already it didn't seem worth the effort to get worked up.

"Don't be stupid, Granger, it doesn't look good on you."

"What then?"

"Voldemort is gone. Nothing will bring him back. And this spell, this set of spells, will make him look like Flitwick in the scheme of things."

All right, maybe my stomach got a little cold at that one.

"That's why it was so well-protected. Dumbledore's last gift to me. I put the enchantment on it because if I was ever in mortal danger Ginny was to destroy its contents. That was how it looked on paper, anyway."

"Cozy," I muttered.

"It's easy to be nonchalant about it when you're going to miss all the fireworks," Harry said coolly. "And on that note," he raised his wand.

"No!" Ginny cried, struggling up from the floor. She'd used her time down there to fish her wand out from under her skirt. She brandished it at him. The room exploded in action as much as a room with three people and one mannequin can. Harry whirled around to face her. Pansy screamed and dove behind him. He kicked at her and she yelped like a struck puppy. Pulled out her own wand. Probably a reflex, since she didn't seem to know who to point it at. Ginny leapt onto the bed, her body shielding mine, still pointing her wand at Harry.

I needed a drink like Merlin need a fucking pointy hat.

"Hermione," Ginny said still looking at Harry. "Hermione, I'm so sorry for all of this. I'm so sorry. I love you, Hermione, I swear it. I never would have gone along with this, I wasn't thinking."

I was. I knew she was thinking it was just like Ron all over again. _I don't know why I went along with it, Hermione. I don't know why I did and I'd take it back in a second if I could._

"Get away from her, Ginny," Harry barked. His voice was cold as ice. Colder. It would've frozen water and made the ice cubes break out of sheer terror. "Get away from her. I will kill you."

"I know. I don't care. If I have the chance to get you first I'm taking it," she said. Like a whole different woman. Nothing timid. Nothing remorseful.

"I mean it, Ginny. Nothing must stop me."

I stepped out of my body then. Watched everything happen. Harry talking like he was in a bad movie. Pansy cowering down low, her wand vacillating between targets. Ginny straddling me, wand arm straight and unwavering. She loved me. My hovering consciousness was able to drink that thought straight down without worrying about how many bodies would be slumped in this room in just a few seconds. That thought would push my little boat calmly down the river to the grand old cardroom where my friends sat waiting. They'd probably have good scotch there. And Ginny loved me, and she was sorry.

And then, in a flash, it happened.

If I could slow that flash down, it would've looked like this: Ginny dropped her arm to my body and shouted. Suddenly my limbs were loose and fluid. I called for my wand, don't know what possessed me to do it, but sometimes you just know. In that second there was a terrible scream that filled up more time than standing in the queue at Gringott's. It filled up that whole moment.

Harry's lips moving. Pansy's too. Except her wand was pointed at him. He was making those words that strike fear into a witch's heart just before those words strike you dead. Couldn't tell what Pansy said, but her white light knocked his green light off course and it slammed into the mirror on the wall next to the bed. Flying glass everywhere. Harry on the floor, not moving. Pansy shaking like a leaf. And Ginny.

She was warm in my arms. Warm and sweet. At first I couldn't tell what it was that was making everything so warm and I thought it must just be her. Then I tore my eyes away from hers, wide and unblinking. Blood everywhere. But she hadn't been hit.

"Ginny?"

Nothing.

"Ginny?" I was getting a little panicked. I realized the blood was hers. Shards of glass from the mirror protruded from her body like little icebergs. She coughed. More blood.

Pansy screamed again. Dropped her wand. Harry started to stir and I whipped my wand to face him and fired off something, anything to keep him down. "Call somebody," I hissed at Pansy. "Go!" She nodded and bolted. I hoped she'd do it.

"Ginny?"

"Hermione?" she said weakly, her voice faraway. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't waste your breath on it," I choked. I held my wand over her and tried to pick out the shards of glass. I didn't have much time. My hand was shaking hard.

"I love you," she whispered. More coughing. Merlin, I had to stop the blood. But I couldn't. She was too broken. My little broken doll. I kept trying to pull the glass out of her, to stanch the bleeding. She was getting lighter.

"Don't go, Ginny," I mumbled feverishly. "Don't go, I love you."

But I could see her getting into her little boat. Climbing into it. Stepping in daintily, just like a lady. I saw her turn back and wink at me, lifting a cigarette to her lips. Just like a dame.

I leaned over and kissed her lips. Still warm. Still soft. Still my girl.


End file.
